The Spider's Academy
by Major Mario
Summary: Returning to the dojo that taught her most, if not all that she knew about Taekwondo, Juri finds that her instructor has passed away and has left the establishment to her. Reluctant, the S.I.N. Spider mulls over the idea for some time until she stumbles across a few people who could benefit from her insight and teachings.
1. The Return

It had been quite some time since Juri had returned to the family home in South Korea after her stint in S.I.N., and she was not planning to stay long. Too many things had happened over the years for her to be welcomed back without a fuss. A life of cruelty and violence had made her known to the world, and while the major organizations of Shadaloo and S.I.N. had fallen by her hand, no-one saw the once pride and joy of the Han family as a returning hero. They saw her as a witch passing through their hamlet, terrified that destruction would follow her footsteps. Juri both reveled in and despised the looks of fear and scorn in the faces of her countrymen, knowing that the blood on her hands was both a trophy and a curse she could not wash away.

Juri wanted to return home only to grab a few things before taking her life elsewhere. She didn't belong in her family home anymore, nor did she belong in the same city that her father tried to keep safe. It would be better for everyone that she left as soon as possible, but the Korean woman couldn't help but linger. She ignored all painful relics of her past as she made her rounds, collecting clothes and anything useful for the future. When she stumbled upon her old Taekwondo uniform, however, she hesitated to do anything else.

She wasn't one to dwell on the past, but when Juri looked upon that old uniform she just had to call back a fond memory. She remembered the unease and doubt she overcame when her feet touched the fighting mats. She remembered how exciting it was to be locked in combat with another, and how her blood spiked with intoxicating adrenaline when she was on the verge of winning. But most of all, she remembered the looks of pride and congratulations on her parents' faces, especially her instructor who never stopped believing in her.

Scratching her chin, the Korean skirmisher wondered about the dojo she had spent so much time at as a child. If her memory served right, her old instructor was still teaching Taekwondo there. As much as Juri wanted to pack her things and set out to start a new life somewhere away from prying eyes, she had a strong desire to pop in and pay her respects to the person who taught her how to fight. She owed the old man that much. And so, after making sure she had everything packed and ready for when she left South Korea, she decided to step out and head towards the old dojo.

The dojo was, as it had been for years, quaint and welcoming to all types, its entrance open to receive students and onlookers alike. The humble building was overshadowed by the commercial structures on either side in the heart of the city, yet the dojo managed to stand out with its unique decorations and appearance. Even though the dojo itself was small in comparison to the buildings around it, it was imposing to any who looked upon it. Signs bid welcome to those seeking knowledge while pictures and scribbles left by graduates paid tribute to their experiences there. It was the traditional dojo for Taekwondo, but for Juri Han, it was a home away from home.

She gave a rare smile as she looked upon the dojo before sliding open its doors and stepping inside. The smell of incense trying to cover up the stench of sweat was absent that day, as were the usual fare of students. The red and blue fighting mats looked pristine to the Korean, and as she stepped onto them, she stretched and wiggled her toes in glee. Just about everything was as it used to be. Even the walls, decorated with many signs and figures helping students with their form and styles, were unchanged. Juri glanced about for another soul, yet upon finding no-one but herself, she furrowed her brow.

As far as she could recall, there were usually a few dedicated students in the dojo at all times of the day. They would be meditating on their form, practicing kicks, and searching for their fellow peers in the hopes of sparing. At this time of the day, there should have been at least somebody kicking the standing bag or making a racket with all their grunting. Juri ventured into the locker rooms to search for students, but all she found were rows of empty lockers. It was as if the dojo was obsolete and nobody cared to frequent it anymore.

"Hello?" Juri called out as she returned to the dojo floor. "Anyone home?"

Silence was her only answer. Unless everyone had thought that Juri would come back to her childhood dojo and ran for their lives before she arrived, there was no good reason she could come up with for everyone's disappearance. She scoffed and started to make her way towards one of the standing bags when she heard a door open behind her. Turning around, she saw an elderly woman exiting the dojo's office before stopping in her tracks. Looking up, she stared at Juri for a moment before squinting.

"Who is that?" she asked. Using an old cane, the woman took a few steps forward before widening her eyes. "Could it be? Is that... Is that you, little Han? Little Juri Han?"

"Not so little anymore," Juri answered with a bemused shrug. "But yeah. It's me. Who are you?"

"You remember me, yes?"

It was then that Juri looked a little closer. The kindly posture, the blunt expressions, and the welcoming aura was all too familiar. This woman wasn't her instructor, but she was very well connected with him. As the elderly woman smiled, Juri found herself smiling back.

"Mrs. Tong?" The older woman nodded. "You have no idea how nice it is to see a friendly face around here."

"It is good to see you as well, my dear," Tong replied. "It's been... ten or eleven years since I last saw you. You've changed since then, and in more ways than one."

Juri nodded at that. Ten years ago she had been forced through an agonizing encounter with Shadaloo resulting in the loss of her left eye and her parents. In the trials that were laid ahead of her from that fateful day, she had to make many hard decisions that would define her and her life for years to come. She desired vengeance, and she would stop at nothing to see Shadaloo's mastermind dead at her feet. A lot of people had gotten hurt because of her, and some were even killed. In the end, Juri had accomplished her goal and exacted her revenge, but she had lost ten years of her life that she would never get back.

She wasn't that little girl who bloodied all the noses and gave her parents a run for their money anymore.

"I remember when you won your first professional tournament. Your parents were so proud of you that day."

"Yeah... Those were good times," Juri replied after some hesitation.

"Good memories indeed. We needn't focus on anything else in the past but those." Leave it to an old woman to give out sound wisdom. Tong steadied herself on her cane as her smile faded. "Why did you come back?"

After all the media on the destruction of Shadaloo and S.I.N., Juri figured that anyone who paid attention to the news knew both who she was and what she had done. She wouldn't put it past an old woman like Tong to be kept in the dark. If the woman harbored any resentment towards the returning Han prodigy, she did not show it. Perhaps she didn't care, or perhaps she was just putting up a front. Juri wouldn't think any less of Tong if it was the latter.

"I'm not here to stay, if that's what you're asking," Juri replied with a nonchalant shrug. "I just popped in to grab a few things at the house before going... somewhere, anywhere. I'll figure it out when I get on the road again."

"I meant why did you come back here to the dojo, Juri," Tong sighed.

"I wanted to see an old friend again. Is he around?"

The two women shared a length of silence together before Juri felt the weight of what she just said come down on her. Tong exhaled and solemnly shook her head.

"Your instructor... My husband... He passed away two years ago, Juri."

Juri felt her heart skip a beat at that revelation before she looked away from Tong out of embarrassment.

"How did he die?" she asked, her voice low.

"Cancer."

Slumping her shoulders, Juri turned back to Tong and shot her a look of sympathy. It had been some time since she felt for her fellow man with emotions other than anger and disgust. Despite her reckless aggression, her abrasive personality, and her dangerous background, she was still human, and she cared for those close to her. Knowing that the instructor who saw her through her training had died was disheartening enough, but Juri found even greater woe in knowing that she had been off on a bloody violent streak in S.I.N. and was ignorant of his death.

"He was a good man. A good friend to both you and your father," Tong continued.

"He put up with me," Juri retorted. "Not many people could do that. I owe him a lot."

"You owe him nothing. He would have been overjoyed to know you were still alive."

Juri smiled at that.

"Good to know. Well, since he's not here anymore, I think I should get going again." Juri turned to leave, although with some reluctance. "It's been good seeing-"

"Juri, wait," Tong exclaimed. She hobbled forward and looked up at Juri with pleading eyes. "Before you go, there's something you should see."

"What is it?"

Mrs. Tong only beckoned with her hand before turning around to head back to the office.

Curious, Juri followed the older woman into the office and took a look around. Two stiff and uncomfortable discount chairs were placed in front of a small desk with one side pressed against the wall. Behind the desk was the only comfortable chair in the dojo, although it was hardly used by the active instructor. Bits and pieces of equipment like straps, pads, and standing bags occupied a corner of the room while a few filing cabinets flanked either sides of the door. The walls were the same color as they were back in the main room, only this time they were more decorated with framed certificates and pictures of better days.

Memories upon memories greeted the Korean fighter as she looked at the pictures on the walls. She could see a family portrait of the Tongs behind the desk, its frame embroidered with silk and touches of blue. Juri hummed in thought as she passed the portrait by only to look upon plenty of class photos occupying the far wall. As Mrs. Tong began to rummage about in the desk, Juri traced her fingers across the frame of one class picture and looked for the girl with the violet eyes. Finding her standing out from all the rest with a proud smirk, Juri copied the expression.

"Atta girl," she praised.

"Here we are."

Juri looked over at Mrs. Tong and saw her place a sheet of crisp white paper down on the desk. The margins were decorated with intricate patterns and the writing was filled with the grandeur of the author.

"What is this?" Juri asked as she picked up the paper and began to read.

"Many years ago, my husband felt himself growing older. He expressed a desire to pass on something to the next generations, and while he seemed content with teaching the young how to fight, he made plans to leave behind things for those he cared about." Mrs. Tong hovered over Juri's shoulder and caught her surprised expression. "What you hold is his will. He left our children with much of his money and gave me whatever comfort I would need after his departure, but to your family, the ones who so unselfishly supported him and his dojo..."

"He left my father the dojo," Juri finished, her eyes downcast.

"He wished to leave it to the Han family, and I support him," Tong continued.

Juri dropped the paper to the desk and glared at the other woman out of the corner of her eye.

"There is no Han family anymore. There's just me."

Tong reached for the paper as she sighed. She narrowed her eyes at the stubborn child and pressed the paper into her hand.

"And as the only one left, he leaves the dojo to you. It's what he would have wanted."

The Korean assassin looked back at the paper in her hands before looking off into the distance. Her instructor had left her family the dojo, but since they were all dead, the deed to the building belonged to the person who desired it the least. Juri had no desire to own her own dojo, let alone deal with the day to day operations. She did not want to stay in Korea for very long, but now that she had new property, she found herself conflicted. As much as she wanted to leave, she felt that she had an obligation to her instructor to carry on his teachings, and even more, she felt that she had an obligation to herself.

This could be a new direction for me, Juri thought. It was something to do, and it would allow her to continue her career as a Taekwondo practitioner. Yet, Juri knew that the city was against her. They were already nervous at having their pride and joy return as a killer, and only time would tell before their nervousness turned to hostility. Every step would be watched by thousands of voluntary spies, and Juri would hardly feel comfortable in the place of her birth. The whole problem required more than a few minutes of thought, so Juri turned to Tong to let her know that she would think about it, and that she promised nothing.

Leaving the instructor's will on his desk, his most valuable student walked out with a new burden on her mind.


	2. The Wolves of South Korea

Juri almost envied the people who had everything figured out. They knew what their careers were going to be, they knew who they wanted to fall in love with, and they had grand ideas that they knew how to accomplish. If a curve ball was sent their way, they knew just how to bat it away and score a home run. If they were set back a couple years, they worked hard to get back up onto their feet again. Such people were rare. So rare, in fact, that Juri figured she would more likely see Godzilla than someone who had everything under wraps.

They probably never had to deal with the fallout caused by two dead criminal syndicates, a bunch of angry special agents out for blood, fines, citations, legal bull, a couple bleeding-hearts activists, and returning home to the place where, at fifteen years of age, your entire world was crushed by a homicidal dictator. Juri had managed to get through all of that, yet she bore the scars of it all. She only had a vague idea as to how she was going to live her life after S.I.N., and it wasn't pretty. No matter where she went, people would know who she was and what she had done. And now that her late instructor had left her with his dojo, it presented an opportunity to stay with the people who were the first to know what she had become.

A killer who operated a dojo wasn't that rare. There were plenty of martial artists who worked in the military, and many of them had first-hand experience with fighting. Some even killed, but they never enjoyed it. Unlike them, Juri enjoyed taking lives. Killing her enemies felt good, and she wasn't going to deny it. If you were good at something, why not enjoy it, she thought.

But now Juri was back in civilized society, and they didn't take too kindly to killers who overstepped their bounds. If Shadaloo hadn't come and mucked everything up, Juri figured she could have been fine living near home doing something tame. A desk job where she had to look at a computer for hours on end would have been boring, but at least she wouldn't have been crushing heads against the concrete and dodging bullets. Eventually one of those bullets would have hit her, and while Juri enjoyed the thrill of combat and everything that came with it, she was glad to be out of danger for some time.

Walking the streets of her city, Juri toyed with the idea of running her own dojo. It seemed to be the pipedream of just about every great martial artist. They were past their fighting career, yet they wanted to teach others how to fight and to carry on their unique art. Everyone wanted to leave behind something when they left the world; it was simply human nature. Juri had no desire to teach others how to fight, nor did she want others doing what she had done. If she had it her way, she would smack around a few kids until they got the bright idea that whatever path she walked down wasn't for them.

Who in their right mind would allow Juri Han, a convicted killer, to run her own dojo and teach others? Already people were stopping and staring at the woman as if she was a tiger let loose upon the streets. Juri could run an organization on fear and anger, but this was a different story. She would be teaching fellow countrymen, novices, and kids. Nobody would allow her to get a degree or certificate that allowed her to run a dojo, and nobody would dare to leave their kids near her. Chuckling at her own pessimistic thoughts, Juri turned a blind eye to the stares boring into her back.

"Fighting's the only thing I'm really good at," she mumbled. "But me teaching? No, couldn't cut it."

Juri's problem, unbeknownst to her, was not that people wouldn't let her run a dojo. Plenty of criminals and killers were able to get back into society's good graces with enough time and effort. Juri had plenty of time, and she could put a tremendous amount of effort into anything that she put her mind into. What she didn't have was a driving force, something to motivate her. Revenge was a fantastic driver, but now that Juri had extracted it, her pool of inspiration was empty.

Perhaps it was this feeling of emptiness, of not knowing how to handle a dojo that directed the woman's steps down an unfamiliar street. Between dodging the gazes of people she didn't want to fight and trying to rack her brain for reasons to stay in the city, Juri caught a glimpse of a few signs telling about another dojo in the city. When she was a child, the only dojo around in the city that she knew of belonged to Mr. Tong. The demand for self-defense courses weren't as high then, and while most South Koreans jumped on the opportunity to learn their national fighting style, fighting just wasn't at the top of their to-do lists. After the Shadaloo attack, the demand must have risen up enough for another dojo to be constructed.

"But why me?" Juri mumbled to herself as she dipped her hands into her pockets. "Jin Tong was a smart man. Smarter than average, anyway. He should have left the dojo to someone who could run it. Now that I think about it, why hasn't anyone else tried to run the dojo? Did they just say 'screw it' and go make one of their own?"

Juri shook her head and decided to put that line of questioning aside for the moment. She could check in with Mrs. Tong later and get all the information she wanted, but for now she wanted to follow up on her curiosity. Stepping out onto the main street of the city, Juri continued to follow the signs towards the new dojo before she finally laid her eyes on it.

The first thing that stood out about the dojo was its size. The building was on par with the small commercial buildings that surrounded it, standing out like a wolf amongst sheep. Unlike Mr. Tong's dojo, this one wasn't quaint or welcoming. The no-nonsense signs and application fees plastered over the windows in a neat fashion made it clear that the dojo was all about the business. Juri furrowed her brow when she noticed the application was double the fee of Mr. Tong's, yet the class hours were the same. Unless there were some top players teaching the students in there, Juri could find no reason for the increase in fees if there wasn't a guarantee that the skills learned in the dojo would be top-notch, even better than what the late Mr. Tong could have offered.

And Juri was quite biased when it came to Mr. Tong's teachings. She learned just about everything about Taekwondo from him, and the rest she had to figure out on her own. Her own violent rendition of the style was built upon his work, just like any other aspiring student. And just like any other aspiring student, save a certain arrogant Thai fighter, Juri respected her late teacher.

Stuffing her pride into her pockets, Juri entered the dojo.

Unlike the previous dojo, there were plenty of students practicing on the fighting mats. Every student had a partner, and they were facing off against each other in bouts of friendly sparring. Juri looked on as students attacked and blocked with quick, military-like precision. It was as if every kick was choreographed and every block was planned. It was impressive, but Juri couldn't help but find a few flaws in the students' forms. They relied too much on textbook kicks, dodges, and blocks and kept their bodies rigid in order to snap forward with a suitable action.

A good fighter kept their body in motion and their movements were fluid and deadly. By keeping a relaxed yet attentive stance, a fighter could react to attacks much quicker than one who locked their stance. Juri figured the students were doing well enough, even if they left more to be desired. As long as they were able to defend themselves and put their opponent down for the count, all was well. Yet even Juri knew that that was just part of the basics of fighting.

Her presence had attracted attention, and soon she found the eyes of the students upon her. Juri paid them no heed and instead focused on the few trainers in their ranks. Some looked like military while others seemed little more than common men with a talent for fighting. They didn't look to be thugs, but that would all change if they opened their mouths and made a snarky comment. Juri had the slightest feeling that she didn't belong here, but still she stood there front and center for all to see. One trainer walked up to her after scrutinizing her for a moment.

"Can I help you, Miss...?"

"Han," Juri replied. She could see the fear flash through the trainer's eyes as he realized who she was. "And no. I'm just sightseeing."

"M-Miss Han! Uh, well, okay then," the trainer stammered.

"Actually, there is something you can help me with. Who runs this place?"

The trainer fidgeted and clasped his hands together.

"I can go get him if you'd like."

"You do that," Juri replied.

As the trainer ran off into a nearby office, Juri noticed the looks the students were giving her. They were all kids, but all of them looked the same. Well-built, stocky, muscles, and an arrogant stature. There were no gangly or skinny kids in there, not even girls. Most of them had hit puberty and thought they were something, but the way they were standing away from Juri like she was going to lash out at them brought a smile to her face. They were like schoolyard wolves in a pack, growling at a distance with their tails tucked between their legs.

Before too long, the alpha wolf came out from his den and approached Juri. He was big for a Korean man, and Juri figured he was ex-military given the way he carried himself. Despite his tall stature, the man wore a friendly smile and dressed like a dojo owner ought to dress. In his gi, he made it known to his students that he not only maintained the place but offered help when asked. Juri watched through narrowed eyes as the man opened his arms wide in welcome.

"I heard you were back in town," he said. "Good to see you again, Juri."

Juri folded her arms and gave an inquisitive tilt of her head.

"Aha, let me guess, you don't remember me, do you?"

"Nope," Juri replied. "Should I remember you?"

"It's me! Kyung Song? Ring any bells?" The man sighed and rubbed his head. "Come on, don't leave me hanging!"

"There are a lot of Songs here in Korea," Juri deadpanned. "Wus, Lis, and don't get me started on Kims. How do you know me? Did I kick your dog when I was a kid or something?"

Kyung chuckled at that before shaking his head.

"Nah, not like that. You and I were in the same Taekwondo class when we were kids. Got our black belts together."

"Oh really?" Juri mumbled as she uncrossed her arms. "Mr. Tong's class of 1999?"

"That's right! Man, we've both come a long way since then. I joined the military for awhile before I decided to open up my own dojo. I want to get Taekwondo back on the map again, especially after what happened to your-"

"Did you know that Mr. Tong's dead?" Juri interjected with a cold look.

"Jin Tong?" Kyung asked. "Yeah, he died two years ago. I heard it was cancer, but I don't know what type it was. You've been gone a long time, Juri. Did you just get back today?"

"Yesterday. I went to see the old man today only to learn that he kicked the bucket." The woman shrugged and decided to leave out the part about the will. Frankly, she didn't like Kyung, and she wasn't going to give too much information away. "Now his dojo is coming down with him."

"Damn shame," Kyung replied. "He was a good man, and it hurts to see the dojo we learned at go out of business. I hope it finds a good owner."

Juri gave an innocent-looking smile.

"Yeah, I hope so too." She glanced to the students nearby before looking back to Kyung. "You seem to be doing well for yourself. You've got a good class here."

"Yup, just got these kids a week ago," Kyung said with pride. "They show some real promise."

"Mhmm. They all look like they can fight. Where are the girls?"

Kyung hesitated for a moment.

"Well, I'm hoping to get a few girls in here. I'm still looking through some applications, Juri."

"You do that," Juri mumbled. She picked up on Kyung's hesitation and frowned. "Well, it was nice meeting you again."

"Oh, yeah, you too! If you're still around, maybe I can show you around the city. A lot of stuff has-"

But Juri would hear no more of Kyung. She turned on her heel and left without another word. It wasn't 'nice' to meet a person she had no interest in remembering, and it wasn't charming to sit and listen to the man lie to her face. There wasn't much in the way of proof, but Juri was certain that Kyung wasn't all that he seemed to be. If he held half as much respect towards Jin Tong as Juri did, he would at least try to salvage the old man's business instead of going out of his way to create one of his own. Plus, his hesitance when confronted with the lack of female students rubbed Juri the wrong way.

Juri wondered what Kyung's angle was in starting up his own dojo. He said that he wanted to put Taekwondo back on the map again, but in South Korea just about everyone knew what Taekwondo was. Perhaps he thought his training was going to be hot stuff, that his students would go on to become the best fighters the world had ever seen. He had a right to shoot for the stars like anyone else, even if Juri thought it was an inane goal. She glanced back at the dojo and felt a pang of jealousy well up in her heart.

Kyung's desire, as odd as it was, was what drove him to establish his own dojo. Juri wished she had her own driving force right then and there. It had to be stronger than her concerns over her being in the city of her birth, and it had to be greater than her self-doubt. She could teach others how to fight, yes, but her methods would be extreme. A fight could mean so many things: a simple sparring match, a competitive scuffle, or an all-out brawl where two men entered and one man left. If this generation of children got into fights, they would have to know more than kicks and proper form, Juri realized.

She made her way from Kyung's dojo with the intent of returning to Tong's own when she passed by an alley off of one of the side streets. Sounds of a scuffle carried down the passageway and reached Juri's ears, stopping her in her tracks. Ever since she was a child she knew to steer clear of alleyways, yet when she became an adult and longed for more opportunities to get into brawls, she found herself frequenting the shadowy hotspots. She didn't want to get into a fight herself when she was back in her home city, but she wasn't about to ignore whatever was happening in the alley. When she heard what sounded to be a kid fighting a losing battle, Juri turned and made her way down the alley.

Two well-built boys in their mid-teens were having a grand old time taunting and fighting two others, a young boy and a teenaged girl. The boy wasn't even trying to fight back. He cowered against a dumpster and kept his hands up to shield his face while the girl protected him by keeping the thugs' attention on her. She had a few scrapes and bruises on her arms and legs, yet she kept on fighting. Juri noticed the tears in her eyes and came to the conclusion that she was facing off against a couple of bullies, and she was scared out of her mind.

Juri contemplated stepping in to break up the fight, but she brushed the thought aside. It wasn't her fight, and she knew that if it was her against two stronger opponents, she wouldn't appreciate someone stepping in. She stayed in the shadows and observed the fight as the two thuggish boys managed to corner the girl. In an act of desperation, the girl twisted on the ball of her foot and sent a wild kick to the stomach of one of the boys. While lacking the proper form, force, and execution, it winded the thug and sent him to his knees.

The thugs reorganized after that strike and knocked the girl down. They gave her a few kicks to keep her down before moving onto the cowering boy. As they ransacked him for his money, Juri noticed that the girl, while knocked down, was still conscious and had enough strength to prop herself up. Get up, Juri thought. If you're still conscious, you can still fight. When the girl gave into her fear and pain and stayed where she was, Juri shook her head.

"You just had to make it difficult, didn't you?" said one of the thugs as he pocketed the cowering boy's money.

"Come on, let's get out of here," said the other, wincing as he turned away. It seemed that the kick to his stomach took a lot out of him. "Damn that bi-"

As the two thugs turned to make their leave, they were met with the imposing form of Juri Han standing in their way. The woman glared down at them with a cruel smirk as she clenched and unclenched her fists. Fear surfaced in the thugs' eyes; they knew just who the woman was from the terrible stories told about her. One of them fumbled for something to say, but Juri beat them to the punch. Without a word, the Korean woman stepped aside and gestured for the two thugs to continue on. Her eyes glowed with devilish energy, and she wasn't about to repeat the gesture.

Taking the opportunity, the two thugs ran past Juri and darted out of the alley like bats out of hell. A kindhearted person who protected the weak wouldn't have hesitated to knock the two thugs to the ground, but Juri wasn't the type. If the girl wasn't going to get back up and stop the thugs, then why should I, Juri thought. She looked over at the girl and saw a defiant scowl on her face. Someone was a little angry that the thugs got away, it seemed.

"Why didn't you stop them?" she coughed.

"I don't know," Juri replied. "Why didn't you?"

The girl scoffed and winced. While she had a few scrapes and bruises to complement her new bloody lip, she looked to be just fine. Nothing a few band-aids and rest couldn't fix.

"It was two against one!" the girl whined.

"That's no excuse to stay down."

"Is it... Is it over?"

Juri looked down at the cowering boy and sighed.

"Get up, kid."

As the boy got back to his feet, Juri examined the two more closely. The boy was a gangly little thing with skinny arms and legs, and his attire was that of someone whose family had money. Nice clothes combined with no knowledge of self-defence made for a tantalizing mugging target. As for the girl, she had dirty short hair and practical clothes that made her fit in well in the city. Her skin was fair and her face was plain, showing that she either forgot to put on some makeup or she just didn't care. On top of that, there existed a few embers of spirit in her eyes that reminded Juri of herself when she was a child.

Before she could be drawn back into a memory, Juri caught the girl trying to get back to her feet. She approached her and pushed her back down to the ground where she cried out in protest.

"H-hey! What's the b-"

"Oh, so now you decide to get back up?" Juri growled.

The girl tried to get back up again only for Juri to shoot her down with a glare. Frightened by the look, she stayed where she was.

"You don't get it, do you? You can be like this kid over here," Juri gestured to the sniveling boy, "and never try to fight back, but as soon as you stand up and lash out to defend yourself and those you care for, you can never fall back down. You owe it to yourself and the people around you to keep fighting, even if that means losing something every now and then."

Juri crossed her arms over her chest and offered a small smirk.

"I will say this though... That was a pretty good kick back there."

"You... You think so?"

"Yeah. It looked like you were putting up a good fight against those thugs until you fell." Juri offered her hand to the girl. "Could be better, though."

The girl took Juri's hand and saw herself back to her feet. She dusted off her pants and groaned in pain before turning to the boy from before. Seeing as he was battered but alright, she smiled and reached out to him. The boy didn't hesitate in offering her his shoulder for support. Juri figured the two must be friends or at the very least two people who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and banded together. Even if the boy wasn't a fighter, he still wanted to help out the person who stood up for him. That alone made Juri give some respect his way.

"Where'd you learn how to fight, anyway?" Juri asked.

"Videogames," the girl replied with an embarrassed blush. Juri made a face at that. "B-but I was taught a few moves at Tong's dojo before he-"

"Tong's dojo?" Juri repeated. "Do you mean the place owned by Jin Tong, the old man who died two years ago?"

"Yeah, that one."

"So you knew old man Tong, huh?" Juri scratched her chin in thought. "But after he died, didn't you try to apply to the new dojo run by Kyung Song?"

A expression of disgust spread across the girl's face as she looked away. Seeing as she wasn't going to answer, the boy decided to speak for her instead.

"Hyun's family didn't have the money for what Mr. Song offered," said the boy. "Mr. Tong was nice, though. He taught her a few things after classes for a week before he passed away. Besides, Hyun says that Mr. Song is a filthy d-"

"Thank you, Seok," Hyun grumbled as she cut the boy off. "But yes, Mr. Song is a dirty girl-hating jerkwad. I'm not some weak little girl; I can fight!"

Juri smiled at the girl named Hyun, for she agreed with her opinion. Why was it that kids seemed to know who to trust and who to write off as jerks better than most adults? She wasn't a misandrist, but she despised men who thought women couldn't fight. There were enough elitists out there in the world as it was, and adding another misogynistic man to the mix would have been repetitive. Everyone deserved a chance to learn, even if they were a gangly rich kid with a good heart or a battered girl from a poor family.

"Let's hope you can," Juri replied, "because videogames can't teach you everything. You need to learn how to hold your own in a fight. You need to learn how to survive."

"Well I don't want to learn from Scumbag Song," Hyun retorted.

"If only Mr. Tong was still here," Seok offered. "Even I'd enroll just to help you train, Hyun."

The two children looked down at their feet, leaving Juri alone with her thoughts. Despite her earlier thoughts, someone needed to teach people how to survive in the world. Shadaloo and S.I.N. proved that the world was still a terrible, dangerous place that threatened to swallow up innocent people and destroy all they held dear. Juri knew this firsthand, but instead of being swallowed up, she had turned herself into a monster in order to fight back without her conscience interfering. Becoming a monster to survive in a cruel world was Juri's choice, but she wasn't about to let others follow in her footsteps.

There was still hope in the world, she realized, and one didn't have to become a monster to survive in it. Turning away, Juri chuckled. She had found something to drive her, something to convince her to stay in her city and humor Tong's will. She wouldn't teach others how to fight or break them down into monsters. That was up to them. What she would do, however, is teach others how to survive. The best way of doing that was to take on Tong's dojo for her own.

Juri knew that a tough road laid ahead of her if she planned on going through with it all, but therein laid the appeal of doing something difficult: the challenge. She wasn't known for turning down a challenge.

"Hey..." Hyun looked up at Juri as the woman walked away. "Who are you anyway?"

"Just a spider looking for her web," Juri answered. She gave the two kids a wink as her left eye glowed. "Let's leave it at that... for now."


	3. The Hypocritical Oath

A bead of sweat trickled down her brow as she rocked back and forth. It had been some time since she had felt her own strength as it was in its natural element, free from any emotions. All that was on her mind was her training and the desire to put her skills to use. She paid no attention to the sweat glistening on her brow and instead lurched forward to meet her target. Pushing off from the ground with just the right amount of force, she went airborne and twisted her body to prepare a spinning back kick. As soon as her foot connected with the head of her target, she realized that she had used a little too much force, for a sickening tearing sound rippled through the empty dojo.

Juri touched down and sighed as she inspected the standing body-shaped training bag. Normally an indestructible pummeling bag, the effects of Juri's kicks had proved too much for it to stand against. The woman sneered when she saw sand trickle down from a gaping tear in the body bag's neck. On one hand, she always got a kick out of destroying something that was practically indestructible, but on the other, the body bag belonged to her and would have to be replaced, meaning it would have to come out of her purse instead of S.I.N.'s coffers.

"Well damn," she cursed as she took the body bag and laid it down on its side. She rubbed the tear in its neck and gazed over her shoulder. "Mrs. Tong? Do you have any duct-tape?"

The elderly woman looked up from her brooming and dusting and murmured.

"There should be a roll in the office. Try the desk." She huffed and ruffled a strand strand of white hair out from the side of her face. "Juri, it would be better to sew the scar up."

"Like stitches?" Juri asked. She moved past the older woman and into the office only to return with a roll of duct tape. "I fought with stitches once. It was awful. I don't imagine it would be much better for the bag."

"What makes you believe that duct tape will succeed where sewing fails?"

"Simple. I put a few strips over a bad gash one time and everything was fine." Juri's face fell at Mrs. Tong's look of concern. She sighed as she tore out a strip for the body bag's tear. "Oh come on, I'm kidding!"

"You've got a strange sense of humor," Tong murmured. She shrugged her shoulders and went back to her sweeping. "I learn something new about Han's daughter every day..."

Juri looked on and smiled at this. It had been a few weeks since the woman had made her less-than-triumphant return to South Korea, to her hometown of Seoul, and already she was making a better name for herself. So many people expected a conflict to flare up between her and the community, but the woman kept her distance and held her tongue against the silent judgements of the people. Juri stayed out of the public eye and made it clear that she meant no trouble to the citizens of Seoul and they realized the feeling was mutual. In turn, plenty of citizens began to ease into their roles and no longer worried so much about the spider making a web in their district. Though there were always naysayers and skeptics about, so far the Korean woman was doing just fine.

So fine, in fact, that Juri had managed to gather all the paperwork required to start up old man Tong's dojo. She went to city hall and other places to apply for permits and prove her worth as a teacher of the martial arts. In any other country Juri wouldn't have much trouble starting a dojo, but here she was back in South Korea, the heart of taekwondo and self-defense martial arts. The requirements and work needed to become a dojo owner were difficult and tedious. After running through half a dozen pens and a couple pots of coffee, Juri managed to get all her information and papers together. She could now teach children how to defend themselves as well as other age groups.

The victory was short-lived, however, when Kyung Song stopped in to congratulate Juri on her success. To an onlooker, the exchange would be empowering, uplifting, and kind coming from someone who already had an established dojo. The man clearly was looking forward to a long and fruitful relationship with a fellow owner, and their respective dojos would fare well in the coming days due to friendly competition. But to Juri, one of the few people who really knew what was going on, she saw Kyung's congratulations as belittling. He mocked her, challenged her, and saw her as a defanged snake. Nobody noticed this but Juri, and she was furious.

Competition was in her blood. She was a taekwondo prodigy and she would not be upstaged by some talentless hack with deep pockets and a pack of little pups swarming around his ankles. Juri soon lost sight of her previous desire to help kids defend themselves and survive in the world. It was still one of her goals, but now she wanted to see Kyung's wolfish grin turn upside down when her class beat the everliving daylights out of his. Unlike during her time in S.I.N. or in free-for-all fights behind closed doors, Juri was in the public eye, and she needed to adhere to something worse than ideals or societal norms.

Juri, the irrepressible force, had to play by the rules.

"In hindsight, beating up the body bags before the first day of class wasn't the best idea," Juri mumbled as she applied a thick strip to the tear. She ran her hand over the strip and eased out any creases before repeating the process a few more times. "Maybe I should buy tan tape next time. A kid'll see this and think 'I'm next'!"

"A teacher who practices the art every day and shows an eagerness to learn new things is very inviting for new students," Tong said. She finished up with her tidying up and replaced the brooms and dustpans. "Jin always practiced before and after classes."

"That's right. I hardly saw him without his dobok on," Juri replied.

"Yours fits very well, despite your... Ahem, creative improvements."

Juri's first thought for her professional taekwondo attire was to wear what she always wore. Yet in a setting where there were children and normal citizens, wearing a sinister breastplate that showed off her midriff along with a set of cut-away baggy trousers wasn't the best choice. Juri put aside her breastplate and spiked bracelets, but she refused to part with her trousers or belt. To appease the old woman who she now saw as her advisor, Juri took black cloth and patched up her white pants until they were to her own liking. She kept her gloves and black wrappings as well, and with her new dobok top, she looked like any sensei should.

Regrettably, Juri had to tone down her hair as well. It was an outright travesty, but it had to be done so people wouldn't see her as the woman of S.I.N. anymore. Instead of her usual devilish horns, the woman kept her hair back in a simple ponytail, at least for now until people no longer were unnerved by the previous style.

"I like the skull belt."

"Wouldn't your black belt suffice?"

"I like the skull belt," Juri repeated. She stood up from her work and massaged her gloved fingers. "Besides, I'm an instructor now. That means I have a black belt, and I doubt anyone's gonna doubt that. Some people like Kyung like to have their belts hanging out with their trophies on display, as if they have to prove something. Me? I don't care for that crap."

What the woman liked to forget was that she kept all of her old taekwondo trophies and put them up on display in her home. Tong, ever the wise old woman, chose not to reply to that.

"Well, everything is in order for the day. You may want to see about getting extra help, Juri," Tong remarked. "Many hands make light work, and honestly, I don't see myself tending to the dojo for much longer. It's yours now, in spirit and deed."

"I don't plan on making you work at all," Juri retorted with a chuckle. She looked over at Tong with a warm smile. "You're like, the only person in this city who I can stand. You don't have to work if you don't want to. It may be my dojo now, but you're always welcome to stagger in here and see what's up."

"Thank you, Juri." Tong sat down on one of the benches against the walls and laid her head back. She gave a wrinkled grin. "But I'd much rather see the children come back to the dojo. You don't mind if I stay for your class, do you?"

"No no, not at all!" Juri went around to the various body bags and pushed them off the mats and against the walls. She made sure that the five taekwondo tenets on the walls were visible before realizing that she was as ready as she could be. "I don't get it. The kids should be here soon, but I d-"

"Excuse me, but is this the Taekwondo Academy?"

Juri looked to the entrance of the dojo and noticed a few kids were poking their heads in. Behind them were adults, most likely their parents or guardians. A prim and proper office lady stood behind a pair of scruffy-looking munchkins and seemed to speak for the group, for she was the only adult who came inside with the children. She asked the question again and Juri nodded. Soon enough there came the rest of the would-be students and their parents. They glanced up at Juri every so often as they prattled about and got a feel for the dojo.

A week ago, Juri had made her rounds in the city blocks with a stack of flyers and papers promoting her dojo. She plastered them over lightposts, buildings, anything she could find that would highlight her new business. She focused most of her attention towards the poorer districts and in residential blocks, though she did dip into the heart of Seoul every once in a while to cover up Kyung's flyers. It didn't hurt to have a few kids from commercial families bunched in with the working class. After all, Juri herself came from a well-off family, and instead of wanting to become a banker or an office worker, she decided she wanted to fight.

The possibility of finding kindred spirits amongst the children gathered was pretty damn low. Juri looked over at what she had and deduced that the youngest child was seven, and the oldest was around fourteen. Each kid looked the same in her mind, no matter if they were boy or girl. It would be their determination that would differentiate themselves from each other. There were rough and ragged boys, prim and proper girls, oblivious little sprouts and obnoxious tricksters, and they were all Juri's problem now. I must be so blessed, Juri thought with a frown as she looked on at a chubby boy picking his nose.

The pickings weren't all that bad when there were around twenty students. Juri noticed that the two kids from the alley fight, Hyun and Seok, were present with a parent of their own. They looked nervous, but eager to learn something new.

"Alright, yeah. I guess this is everybody for now," Juri murmured. She produced a clipboard and held it under her arm as she gestured to herself. "Glad you all could make it. My name's Juri Han and I'll be the instructor for this term."

* * *

Han's reputation preceded her. After explaining what she expected out of the students as well as elaborating on what her personal goals were, a few parents got the impression that the woman was not the type of person they wanted to leave with their children. These closed-minded people became defensive and refused to see that Juri meant well. They took their children and left while hitting a solid blow against the woman's ego. Fortunately, only a fifth of the people left, leaving the rest dumbfounded.

Registration was a key part of any martial art school. Juri enforced a reasonable fee for the term that took into account medical materials, dojo supplies, refreshments, and the occasional field trip, though she was shooting for the stars on the last two. Her fee was costly, yes, but it was much better than whatever Kyung Song charged, so the parents were relieved. In fact, many of the parents were delighted that someone had breathed life into old man Tong's dojo once more, and the fact that Juri was once a student under his wing helped cement their respect. She was still on thin ice, but she could see that there were some people rooting for her and expecting great things out of her time with new students.

After registering new students, Juri spent the rest of the class period getting the children and parents acquainted with herself, the dojo, and the equipment. She made sure to tell them all that getting hurt was a given and that they were most likely going to learn some things that weren't taught in traditional taekwondo classes. Juri wasn't going to play by the book for the most part, but she would stay within the guidelines and values expected of her. There were no objections to this. The children, while a little unnerved by their new sensei, were eager to learn. That, or they just wanted to be able to knock out a bully with a well-aimed kick.

"Excuse me, Han-sensei?" asked a little girl as she raised her hand.

Juri looked over at the girl and glowered. She wasn't sure why, but she hated being called 'sensei'. Sure, she liked being in charge and letting others know that, but when it came from the lips of a child, Juri couldn't help but shudder in disgust. It would have to do for now, at least until Juri came up with a better title for herself.

"Yeah? What is it?"

"Are there grades? How do we, uh... What exactly do we have to do to pass the class?"

"There aren't any grades. This isn't school or college," Juri huffed. She looked over at the kids and shook her head. "Look, I'm not asking for much here. If you want to succeed, you'll have to want it. Each of you must be willing to give their all. I don't want to hear that you can't do something because it's too hard. Nothing is too hard, okay?" Juri leaned into the little girl. "So, when you go to class tomorrow, I expect you all to keep training until you can't get back up. Do you understand?"

The little girl nodded, as did some of the other children. Hyun and Seok understood very well after the event in the alley, and Juri had high hopes for them. Well, Hyun more than the cowardly Seok. Juri stood up straighter and ran her hands down to her hips. So far things were going well, but now came the hard part. It was time for philosophy, or rather, the philosophy of taekwondo as it was summarized in an oath and the five tenets. The new sensei walked onto the blue mat and beckoned the children to follow her, which they did like sluggish ducklings following after mother goose.

"Before I let you go for the day, there's one thing you have to do before I consider you my students," Juri stated. She folded her arms across her chest and glanced over at Mrs. Tong for reassurance before taking a deep breath. "You must all take an oath."

"What kind of an oath?" Hyun asked, voicing the question on the minds of many of her peers.

"This dojo operates on the standards set by the ITF, so it's a mandatory one," Juri explained. She lifted her hand to the wall behind her where the five tenets were. "Now... Repeat after me. I shall observe the tenets of taekwondo. I shall respect the instructor and seniors. I shall never misuse taekwondo. I shall be a champion of freedom and justice. I shall build a more peaceful world."

Juri suppressed the urge the scowl as she relayed the oath. It was a good philosophy and encouraged people to better themselves while being peaceful towards others, yet it was one Juri could not follow. She had taken the oath before when she was young and had adhered to it as much as she can. When she grew up and became rebellious, Juri broke her oath with her constant fighting and disrespect. It would be during her time in S.I.N. that she abandoned all hope of adhering to the oath that she broke time and time again. It was ironic that she was teaching this to children.

The children echoed Juri after her every sentence and followed her to the tenets written on the walls. Courtesy, integrity, perseverance, self-control, and an indomitable spirit. These were the tenets to be observed and strived for by all practitioners of taekwondo. Juri made sure that everyone read the tenets and stuck around to explain the parts of the oath that went right over the heads of some of the children. She doubted that she could be a great teacher when she couldn't adhere to the oath, but when she looked at the children and parents around her, she realized that she didn't have to make such an effort to do so.

Do as I say, not as I do.

"I'll see you all here tomorrow at three o'clock. If you have any questions, I'll be here for a few more hours," Juri said.

Soon most of the parents and students left the dojo and left Juri alone with her thoughts. She felt a mixture of relief and unease at how the day had gone. On the one hand, she was happy that there were enough potential students to have a good term, and that their parents were open-minded about her. Juri would be a good example and would teach what she could about taekwondo and more. On the other hand, she was nervous about the future and how she would handle being around children. She had made her choice to help them, but children were always so... Needy, annoying, and insolent at times.

A few parents continued to talk or encourage their children before heading out. Juri could hear a few of their conversations and picked up that they were talking about her. Though she wasn't in S.I.N. anymore, people were still wary of the woman, as they should be. The spider shrugged at this and went to share a few words with Mrs. Tong, who, for the most part, was very impressed with how she handled all the information and answered questions to the best of her ability. She did not showboat by showcasing her skills to the children, and neither did she try to intimidate them.

Juri was delighted to call it a day, but before she could do so, she noticed Hyun and Seok loitering around.

"Oh it's you two. What's up?"

"Can I use one of the body bags?" Hyun asked as she brandished her fists.

"And can I practice on the mat?" Seok asked.

"Sure kids. Knock yourselves out," Juri said with a wave of her hand. She looked on as the two pranced onto the large mat and dragged a body bag with them. "Heh... Crap, I'm going to be busy..."

Mrs. Tong appeared next to Juri with a cup of tea in her wrinkled hands. She offered it to Juri, but the woman declined with a smile. It was going to be a busy term for the new instructor, one filled with crying children, sprained ankles, bloody scrapes, and petty fights. These weren't chiseled and built kids from Kyung's class. All of these kids were like anyone else, and they had as many strengths as they had faults. Juri would have her hands full, but as long as she had the advice of the old wife of her beloved mentor, she figured she would be fine.

"You know... This might just be fun in the long run," Juri confessed. She waved her hand over the mat and chuckled. "Behold! My army of children!"

"Just be yourself, but more than that, be sensitive to their needs," Tong replied. "I know you'll do well."

"Yeah, I got a feeling I'll do alright. We'll see when class starts tom-"

"Han-sensei?" came Hyun's startled voice. "I uh..."

Juri looked up and noticed Hyun had knocked over a body bag. Sand was trickling down from a gash in the bag's neck despite the strips of duct tape keeping it closed. Juri shook her head and growled in disgust as Tong laughed beside her.


	4. Burning Out and a Grand Loss

What the hell was I thinking?

I suppose that's the best way to start off a little journal for your dojo or your accomplishments. It really helps to reassure me when I'm feeling doubtful. In all seriousness, what the hell was I thinking when I decided to go ahead with old man Tong's will and run his dojo? I mean, look at me. I'm Juri Han, the ex-SIN agent, convicted felon and one hell of a difficult woman. I'm not exactly cut out for a stable job or even a home close to average, ordinary citizens.

And yet I've been back home in Seoul for over two weeks now and nobody has gathered a mob against me. At least, not yet. I don't suppose that they'll bring up pitchforks and torches against me, but I'm not saying it isn't possible. I can read faces and I know that there's plenty of people in this city who would rather not see me at all. More astounding than their complacency is the fact that I haven't gotten into a fight or argument since I got here. Father always said that Hans were known for finding trouble, and if there's none around, we'd make our own. I might have to bloody someone's lip just to stay sane.

Like I said, I'm not cut out for this kind of life. Once you bash a man's head open with the sharp end of your elbow everything else just seems bland and meaningless. But to answer the big question, I suppose I fell victim to pity, or sympathy. I loved Jin Tong for putting up with me and teaching me the skills I needed to survive. Hearing that he died was enough of a bother, but knowing that he had plans to leave the dojo to my family really made me want to stay for awhile longer. The place was essentially my second home, and I couldn't leave it to rot away as an old relic.

And I especially couldn't let it fade away when Kyung Song, that little bastard, had his own dojo.

But still, what the hell Juri? You hate kids, and you hate whiney parents even more! I have to wonder what my angle is here, as I'm obviously not doing this out of the kindness of my heart. I could care less as to what happens to Seoul or my countrymen. A bunch of little brats shouldn't be on my mind, yet I went and stuck my hand in the snot-nosed beehive because I felt sorry for them. Dammit Juri, the last guy you pitied tried to shove a knife in your back. Pity brings nothing but trouble.

Trouble's what I like, but everyone has their own special blend and dealing with kids and parents ain't it.

"But what you're doing is wonderful, Juri," Tong said to me when she picked up on my doubt. "You're honoring my husband and teaching children how to defend themselves. I can think of no better thing than making the future a much better place."

"I don't want to make the future a better place," I told her.

"You don't? Then what do you want then?"

Tong didn't phrase the question like she was attacking me. She was curious, and rightly so.

"I don't know. I don't know what I want." I sat down with her on one of the dojo's benches and clasped my hands in my lap. "But I know what I like, and this dojo life isn't it."

"Well, if you ask me, I think you're doing better than most first time owners. I can see that you have a knack for teaching."

"Oh come on; no I don't! Look at me! I mean, with all due respect, you're an old woman who's seen plenty of better people in your life. You know damn well that there are more qualified people out there."

The old woman shook her head.

"Did you honestly believe that a woman like me would be capable of- Well, no, I am capable, but you know that I'm not cut out for this. I'm number one on the Seoul watchlist, the military is keeping an eye on me and to make it all worse I've got my own Wikipedia page dedicated to my infamy!" I had to choke back a laugh at the absurdity of it all. "The Information Age is biting me in the ass at every turn when all anyone has to do is just type in my goddamn name and see what I've done!"

"Juri."

"What?"

"What good comes from beating yourself up over this?"

I had to narrow my eyes at the old woman and frown.

"Beating myself up? Mrs. Tong, I don't have any issues. My ego is healthy and my self-esteem is flawless. Flawless!" I shrugged off her question, but I had to come back to it. "Why are you asking me that? You know I'm not beating myself up."

"Perhaps, but I do know for sure that you're not giving yourself enough credit, Juri. You may have done some terrible things in the past; things that may not ever be forgiven, but you are here now and you can make a difference in your own life as well as in the lives of others." Tong didn't give me a chance to bite back. "You may not know it but people look up to you and listen."

"That's because they're afraid of me."

"No, it's because you have something to say. You've gone through so much and have come out of the darkest of places with experiences most of us will never understand. It's your experience and courage that drives people to listen, not your infamy."

I placed my cheek in my hand and grumbled. It felt like I was getting a lecture and a peptalk at the same time. Suffice to say I didn't like either, but they helped in their own way.

"I don't like being the center of attention."

"Who says you are? You don't have to prove anything to anyone, Juri." When I didn't reply, Tong capitalized. "Just think about what you want to do and where you want to go. Give the dojo another week or so before you come to a decision, okay? At least try to find someone suitable to take over when you leave."

Now that hurt. I knew that Tong loved and believed in me as if I was her own daughter, but those final words didn't sit right with me. There wasn't going to be a problem finding someone willing to run a dojo here in Seoul, I knew that much, but the way Tong said it made it seem that I was abandoning this place. I can see why she could think that way, as I already put in a week of work getting this damn place up and running again only to show up every day with cold feet.

I knew that I couldn't keep up this dojo sensei facade. The little Han who looked forward to impressing her sensei was gone. These days I'd be happy to just get a cold beer and a little bit of fun.

"Alright. I'll keep an eye out," I told her. "And if it makes you feel better, I'll stay with the program for another week."

"I would be lying if I said that didn't make me feel better, Juri," Tong replied with that weathered smile of hers. "Thank you."

I don't know how many retorts I must have bitten back during that conversation. I imagine a couple dozen, and that was considering the friendly relationship between the old woman and I.

"You're welcome," I muttered as I stood up. There was nothing left to talk about, so I turned myself over to the training dummies. "Let's hope tomorrow doesn't suck."

* * *

Lo and behold, tomorrow did suck. I spent the weekend huddled up at home taking care of dojo paperwork and old bills and files. I shouldn't call it home, actually. My family's little manor of a home was more like a historic building that some street crook inherited. It was big, lavish and still in great shape despite all the unkind years. It was also empty and uncomfortable, and I don't mean to say that because no-one was around. It was just... Unfitting that I was there.

I really felt like a spider then. You see them huddled up in the corner of a window or wall. They never really want to go anywhere that's too far from their web. I stayed out of my parents' rooms, studies and libraries and made my own little den in the dining room while keeping my own room for my sleeping quarters. I really wasn't planning on staying in Seoul for much longer. I must have figured that if I didn't see anything that could tie me down to this house, I wouldn't get any cold feet when I left.

Monday brought with it all of those terrible ailments those Americans talk about. Boredom, restlessness, burnout and a lot of other words I still have to look up to get their meaning. The kids didn't make it any better.

"Sensei, are you alright? You look a little-"

This little scrapper of a girl was observant that day. She must've gotten the wrong impression that I ran this dojo by the book. That, or she watched a few Karate Kid movies over the weekend and thought it'd be clever to look up at me like I was the old coot himself.

"Oooh no. Don't call me that," I snapped. "Not sensei, not senpai, none of that."

"Well, uh, what do we call you then?"

"Just- Just call me Ms. Han or something. Anything but that sensei crap." I turned to get after another student, but I whirled back around with another thought. "Call me Han-san and I'll dock you two grades. Got it?"

"Okay," the girl squeaked in reply.

"And I'm fine. Get back to- Get over there and spar with Kim."

"B-but there's three Kims here... Which one do I-"

I shrugged and walked off.

"Hell if I know."

* * *

Tuesday was even worse. Kids are like little monsters. They can sense that you're fed up with them and they use that opportunity to be as annoying as ever. They kept asking questions and bothering me with the tiniest of problems like foot positions or where their hands go when they kick. When I try to silence them by giving them a demonstration, their questions shift to my personal history. Their parents must have gotten to them over the weekend.

Speaking of parents, I had one of them interrupt my lesson that day to pull their kid out of the class. They didn't like how I ran things, which was a big shock to me considering I was flying by the seat of my pants. One too many bruises from sparing and a mother will flip out and point fingers at the instructor instead of blaming the kid. The little shit sparred with the biggest kid in the class, and it's his fault he didn't raise his arms to block. I say good riddance.

I think it was one of the Kims too.

* * *

Wednesday was much better. The kids were slower than most to pick up the skills from the first week, but they got the basics down that day and didn't hesitate to show me. That girl I met in the alley- I forgot her name- helped the rest of the bunch get settled into their stances and lash out at the training dummies with utmost discipline. Kicks were hitting their marks and, with the exception of a few layabouts who needed to stretch and train more, the kids showed promise.

I still don't like these kids and I wasn't about to change my mind in leaving them with a better, more qualified instructor... But still, that dojo was filled with sound and the kids were trying their hardest to prove their worth. I should take some pride in that.

"You have to pivot! Let the motion of your body turning fuel your kick!"

I looked up from my paperwork and eased myself out of Jin Tong's old office chair. Class had ended ten minutes ago and the parents had come to pick up their kids. Hardly anyone stayed behind, and if they did, it was because they wanted to chat or spread more rumors about me when I wasn't looking. I peered out from the office and saw that same alley girl again giving some advice to a boy who was making the least amount of progress in the class. His form and kicks were pathetic and I had long decided to give up on him.

But the girl had no intention on giving up on anything or anyone.

"Remember what Ms. Han told us? Keep your arms up and pull them when you turn." The shabby girl demonstrated this herself when she twisted her body to kick a dummy. "See? Keep your foot rooted to the ground, twist forward and kick with your arms keeping your balance. Come on Seok, try it."

The Seok boy did what the girl told him and tried his damndest. His form was shaky and his kick wasn't as forceful as it should have been, but he managed to do an okay job kicking the dummy in the right way. I thought it was lackluster, but the boy's face lit up and the girl congratulated him. She ran him through a few more kicks and sometimes corrected his form by moving him around. It wasn't that bad of a sight, to be honest.

"I think I've got the hang of it," Seok said after he got his fill of kicking. "Thanks Hyun. I wouldn't have gotten this far without you."

"Are you sure about that? You come everyday and make good attempts when Ms. Han teaches us," Hyun replied.

"Y-yeah, but I just get so nervous around so many people. And the instructor doesn't really..."

"She doesn't really believe in you, does she?"

"No. I don't think she does, but I don't blame her," Seok mumbled.

Hyun patted her friend on the back and began to lead him towards the dojo exit.

"Come on, don't sell yourself short. You can do anything if you put your mind to it, and besides, I believe in you." As she and her friend went out the doors, I managed to hear one final thing from her. "Ms. Han... She's probably given up on many of us, but I won't, okay?"

I frowned and returned to my office. Wow... What a dick move talking about me behind my back. Like I said before, kids are like little monsters. You give them a little bit of material and they'll do all that they can to use it against you. But I suppose that girl, Hyun, had a point. I am giving up on these kids by looking for another instructor to take over.

I returned to my office and shut the door behind me. I'll get after them some other day.

* * *

I had gone out the other night to a local bar so I could meet with my replacement instructor. He was an older man just entering the prime of his life and he told me he was looking for something to do, as long as it was something physical. The man had another job to tend to and had started a family with some chick I forgot the name of, so what I gathered is that he's a distracted guy who could stand to have his wallet a little heavier than usual.

He had a little bit of military training but didn't make the cut, so he became a family man. After a few beers with the guy I thought he was alright. Balding and a bit of a bleeding heart, but alright. If he wanted to run the dojo and look after a bunch of ankle biters, more power to him. I think he said his name was Tommy or something... Ah, whatever. Come next monday he'll have the dojo and all the burdens that come with it.

Thursday was rather calm and much better than wednesday was. I think the kids had an idea as to what was going on with the dojo. They didn't want to look at me too much, or at least, they didn't look at me more than usual. That alley girl probably got to them. I let the kids off on the tough exercises and lessons and just left them alone to build up their stamina. And so they kicked and jogged around while others stretched and gossipped as kids tended to do. Whatever made them happy and got them out of my hair.

I tried to rid my mind of any thoughts pertaining to the future, as who the hell was I to know what was in store for me, but I kept coming back to the same things. Where would I go next? What will I be doing? Who will I have to put up with in order to stay around? I haven't even started packing my things at the manor yet. I could always keep an eye out for any shady fighting tournaments, but after dealing with SIN I think I've had my fair share of getting stabbed in the back, at least for a year or so.

Ah hell, whatever comes my way I'll take care of it. I do better under pressure.

Once all the kids went home for the day I decided it would be good to peek into the old sensei's file cabinets. I wasn't looking for any dirt; just a few documents pertaining to the dojo. I wanted to make sure that the deed to the dojo was still around along with any papers I'll need to show to an official once the dojo changes hands. Honestly, I had forgotten what I did with the deed once Mrs. Tong slipped it into my hands. Maybe I left it at the manor...

Speaking of Mrs. Tong, as I was looking around in the office she came around with something in her hands.

"Hello Juri. I take it you've had a good day?"

"Better than yesterday, and yesterday wasn't that bad either," I replied as I looked up at her. "How can you tell?"

"I passed a few of the children on my way here. They were chatting and looked alright." The old woman smiled and continued to linger in the doorway of the office. "Also you aren't swearing under your breath or pouting."

"I don't pout," I retorted with a shake of my head. "Since when have I pouted? You're crazy; I don't pout."

"My mistake," Tong laughed.

I had to smile at this little old lady.

"Well, you're in a good mood aren't ya? You got my letter about that Tommy guy?"

"Tao Mai, Juri, not Tommy. And yes! He seems like good people. I knew his father back when he used to check up on us during the war. He was a nice fellow who tried to keep the peace."

"He was a cop?" I asked.

"No. Milkman."

"Oh." The bundle in Tong's arms attracted my attention. I gestured to it and moved away from the office desk. "What do you got there?"

"My friend Hanako- have you met her?" I shook my head. "Well, she left a bottle of cheongju in the mailbox here for us."

"Woah, really? Here, lemme see."

I took the cheongju from Tong's arms and undid the simple paper covering. Cheongju was a popular drink here in Korea, especially with the younger generation. This was my favorite brand, Chung Ha, and I remember sitting back in an armchair at SIN with a couple glasses after a hard day's work. Now those were good memories. I looked over the clear liquor for a moment longer as Tong read a note that I assumed came with the package.

"She says she has heard about what you've been doing these past few weeks and that she's proud of you for it. Her friends all have grandchildren and she's been talking every so often about signing up for classes."

"I hope she means she's been talking to the kids about signing up and not her old lady friends," I scoffed as I set the bottle down.

"She left us with a bottle of cheongju to celebrate our first week, but she forgot about sending it until the second week," Tong continued, undeterred. She dropped the note to the desk and shook her head. "Poor thing's been forgetting many things lately."

"Hey, at least she remembered in time. Wanna open it up?"

"Here? Now?" Tong looked around the office. "Juri, I don't think this- Well, I do want to open this bottle, but we have no glasses."

"Say no more; I got some here," I replied.

I pushed my chair away from the desk and delved into the drawers. Though I wasn't planning on sticking around much longer, I placed a lot of things in that desk. There were some first-aid supplies, pain pills, a few bills of foreign currency and most importantly, candy. I had to reward myself for making it through week one so I bought a lot of candy and stuffed it away. I really, really missed Korean candy when I was away.

After digging through a few drawers I pulled out two short drink glasses and approached Tong. She was, without a doubt, wondering why in the world I had drink glasses in an office adjacent to a dojo for kids. I just shrugged it off for the answer was simple. I had two glasses because if one broke I could just use the other!

"Come on, let's head back inside. You can open the bottle," I said as I brushed past the old woman.

We made our way back into the dojo and picked a spot on a bench. I would have unscrewed the bottle back at the office, but I didn't want to offer my seat to the old woman and stand around like an odd duck at a party. This was cheongju! It's meant to be enjoyed as you look out over something you've accomplished. I made myself comfortable and set out the glasses for Mrs. Tong to pour that sweet stuff in.

As Tong unscrewed the cap and poured us a glass, she and I got to talking.

"Have you had a chance to go to the temple?"

"What temple? The Buddhist one to the south?" Tong nodded. "Not yet. I've heard that the temple's gone through a renovation recently. I should check it out before I head out."

"That would be nice. Your father always managed to make time for an offering, even before he married your mother."

I took a glass once it was full and scoffed.

"Dear ol' dad and his beliefs."

"He was good friends with the monks there," Tong continued as she picked up her own glass. "He loved showing them your class photo and always spoke so highly of-"

The glass was just about to hit my lips when I jolted up and set my drink down.

"Oh! Hey that reminds me!"

I left Tong with her drink as I dashed back into the office. I knew where the deed to the dojo was now. In case I forgot, that slip of paper would be tucked away behind a picture or painting. Seth had a tendency to hide things behind paintings, so I figured I'd pick something up from him and do the same with documents. I looked to the back wall of the office and made my way around the desk to the class photos where one of them included me.

After easing the damn thing down and prying the wooden siding from one end I got the deed back in hand. I smiled at my younger self as I put the photo back on the wall. When I was a girl I didn't ever think of taking over old man Tong's dojo, so in a sense I wasn't doing any harm to anyone by leaving. Still, I uttered a small apology to the little girl with raven hair. I wasn't about to come back and visit anytime soon.

I wanted to look over the deed just a little more while it was out, but the sound of glass breaking drowned everything out and made my heart skip. It probably came from the dojo, and if that was true, that meant that...

"Tong? Hey, what happened?" I called out. I scurried out of the office and looked to the bench. "What's the ma- Oh fuck..."

Down on the dojo floor was the old woman I had come to see as a friend. Her vintage gray robe was sprawled beneath her while her white lock of hair concealed whatever expression was on her face. A broken bottle of cheongju laid next to her while her glass was shattered with only a few drops sprinkled on the floor. I rushed over to Tong and turned her over to see if she was alright. She was in great pain, and even worse, she was convulsing right before my eyes.

I looked around in a frenzy to try and figure out what had happened. Did Tong not take any medication that day? Was there an assassin about? Did she just fall down at the first glass? Was she having a stroke? There were too many possibilities for me to tend to, and as I spent time thinking them over Mrs. Tong was slipping away by the second. I then realized that the cheongju had been poisoned, but by the time I figured that out the old woman had stopped convulsing.

She just laid there, still as can be.

"Mrs. Tong?" I shook her and felt terror creep up my spine. There was nothing I could do but call her name, louder than before. "Mrs. Tong?! Hey! Hang in there!"

On that day I did something I never would have imagined myself doing. I left Tong on the floor, rushed back into the office and called the police.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Howdy folks. I'm still alive, and I'm still workin' on this story! Thanks to all those who reviewed and commented so far!


	5. Venom

I'm no stranger to death. Growing up as a kid death was all around you. I walked on streets paved with the blood of soldiers who fought for this country, I listened to the radio and heard about what was going on in other countries, and the media certainly didn't pull any punches. Shadaloo had its roots deep in the world at the time I was beginning to question things on my own. I could always tell when someone important died at their hands; whenever my father came home with a defeated look on his face I knew that he hadn't lost just a case but a client as well. Sometimes the victim, of Shadaloo or something accidental or natural, would be someone close, and I would sit there feeling a tightness in my chest.

It's what I feel now, this tightness in my chest that keeps my lungs from drawing in a full breath.

"Han? Can you- Can you look at me? I know this is hard, but we could use your cooperation."

The lies had been shoveled my way long before I sat down in one of the confined rooms of Seoul's police department. I had gotten good at translating these lies into something I can understand, so I knew what was on these officers' minds before it could pass from their lips. None of them had ever dealt with this kind of thing themselves; not even me, and I wasn't trying to bullshit myself like these officers were for the sake of rapport.

I looked up and focused on the gangly man across from me to try and reassure him that I wasn't having a hard time, but there was no doubt in my mind that he mistook my look for that of a glare, and in that sense he probably thought I was, indeed, having trouble coping.

"Would you like anything to drink? Some water or-"

"Just get on with the questioning," I murmured.

The fact that I wasn't curled up with a cup of coffee in the lobby but rather confined to this little room only served to remind me that I was a suspect. After what I had gone through the very least they could do was give me some comfort.

"Okay. Well, I- We've asked you enough already. Your story checks out well with us as well. We're not passing judgement upon you, and we're not tossing accusations either." The officer, Sok Myung Ki, leaned forward and clasped his hands together upon the table that sat between us. "What happened wasn't your fault; you couldn't have known about the poison."

More lies. Of course they were passing judgement. I was the scapegoat instead of the demon this time around, so everyone was eyeing me up with suspicion. They wanted to know why I would go through such great lengths as to send a poisoned bottle of liquor to myself if I knew that Mrs. Tong would be the first one to want to have a taste. None of the officers outright accused me of this, though I knew that it was only a matter of time.

"You suspect me," I stated.

"We shouldn't. But with things the way they are now with a murder on our hands and you here as a chief witness, we have no choice but to write you up as a suspect," Myung replied.

"What about Hanako?"

"That was the name on the package, yes. Mrs. Tong's friend. She's adamant that she didn't send any packages recently, nor did she know about your dojo business as was written in the note. She'll be a suspect as well."

"But you don't suspect her," I answered for him, seeing as he danced around my question.

Myung either ignored me or chose not to shut me down.

"Do you have reason to suspect her?"

"I've never met her, but from what Tong said before all this happened I wager she's just another little old lady. I don't imagine she has arsenic in her kitchen cabinets." I leaned forward and gave the officer a cold look. "Looks like she and I have something in common."

The officer, once again, ignored that comment. He probably assumed that I meant that neither of us had arsenic on hand. What I meant to say was that we were both scapegoats, but I was the pick of the litter with a track record a mile long. Someone must have forged this old lady's handwriting until it was good enough to fool Tong, who in turn would fool me, unknowingly, into drinking poisoned liquor. But since I survived through a stroke of stupidly good luck while Tong did not, I was the prime suspect. I had no reason to poison anyone, let alone the only person in this city who regarded me with such warmth.

Only scum did something that heartless, and believe me, despite all my crimes and colorfulness, I still have some sense of pride.

"Do you have any idea as to who could have done this, then?" Myung asked. There was something in his tone that made me believe he was humoring me. "Anyone who might want you dead?"

If the situation wasn't so serious I would have laughed right then and there.

"That's a big list you're asking me to make. We could start with the names of the SIN members who are still on the run, the remnants of Shadaloo, your fellow officers, the people of this city… The list goes on and on."

"I assure you that none of our officers-"

"Are suspected of doing something this heinous, I know, I know," I interjected. Still, I had wanted to prove a point to him. "Look, there's a lot of people out there who want me dead. It wouldn't have bothered me if I had been attacked on my own... But that wasn't the case today."

My shitlist was massive before I had arrived home, and it had only grown since my two week stay. My cynicism and paranoia fed each other until I had begun to suspect every citizen in this city of having their own special spot marked on my back for their daggers. The notable characters included the police officers, concerned parents, common career criminals and generally anyone who looked at me funny. Yet out of all the names I had swarming about in my mind, one was pushed to the top. It was a baseless accusation but damnit even I wanted to convince this officer to look the other way for awhile.

"How about Song Kyung Su?"

"Kyung? The owner of that dojo downtown?" Myung Ki gave me an icy stare. "What makes you suspect him?"

"I have a feeling," I muttered. "We both run our own dojos. I'm just getting my foot in the door while his business is steady on his feet. Maybe he doesn't want competition."

I had nothing to go on. Out of all the people in this city, it made sense to me that Kyung Su had some kind of resentment towards me that outweighed the simple, petty fear and distrust of the common citizen. Competition has a tendency to bring out the worst in people, after all. But I won't lie any longer. I suspected Kyung Su for one simple reason: from the moment I saw him at his dojo I knew that I didn't like him, and it transcended far beyond simple rivalry.

"That's quite an accusation, Han. Personally I fail to see how he could be involved in this, but we'll investigate."

"Yeah. Do that." We shared a quiet moment together before I voiced a question. "Do you know when you can release Tong's body?"

"It won't be for another couple of days," Myung Ki replied. "We've already contacted both of her children. One of them should be coming back to South Korea in a week to take care of arrangements."

"Good."

After exchanging a few more words Myung Ki pressed me for my number, address, general contact information and all the weight that came with being a suspect. Something told me that the police weren't going to do a proper investigation of Tong's murder and were using it as an excuse to keep a close eye on me. Plenty of people knew the Tongs, and with her name up there in the obituaries people needed someone to blame. Forbidden to leave Seoul until the investigation was over, I realized that I was indeed being played for the scapegoat. Until I was no longer listed as a suspect the people of Seoul were bound to try making my life a living hell.

I left the police department not too long after that feeling cynical as usual. The police, the so-called guardians of society, could not be trusted or relied on. In my experience they never got anything done unless the squeaky wheel- for instance, a certain China doll- did her damndest to move ahead. Simply talking to the officers was like pouring salt upon the wounds, but I tried to find the positives in what I had done.

If I maintain my innocence and convince others of it, soon the people will cast doubt over this whole event. When the people as a collective begin to lose faith in society's law and order institutions, that's when things step up. People get restless and angry, and soon the card that the police holds in their hand, the act of leaving me as a prime suspect, will burn away. To save face they'll have no choice but to do a thorough investigation. But I had no desire to let the police do their work unhindered.

The familiar sensation of venom flooding into my veins gave birth to a mirthless smile. If I was planning on leaving Seoul before, I certainly couldn't do it now. With Tong dead and the dojo in shambles- my fault of course- there was no other option than to figure out who was behind the poisoning. Damned if I cared about the attempt on my life; it was the murder of someone close to me that pumped vengeance back into my system. Someone had to pay for what they did to her, for what they tried to do to me.

Someone had to die.


End file.
